Vayikra Rabbah, specifically section 13, offers a fascinating glimpse into their thought process, starting with a powerful verse from Habakkuk: "He stood and assessed the earth" (Habakkuk 3:6).
Rabbi Shimon ben Yoḥai unpacks this verse, painting a picture of God meticulously evaluating the entire world. He's searching for something, for someone worthy. And according to Rabbi Shimon ben Yoḥai, God "assessed all the nations and did not find a nation that was worthy of receiving the Torah other than [the Israelites in] the generation of the Wilderness." It wasn't just a nation, but a specific generation: the one that wandered with Moses, forged in the crucible of the desert.
But the assessment didn’t stop there. The text continues, "The Holy One blessed be He assessed all the mountains and did not find a mountain that was worthy for the Torah to be received upon it other than Sinai." And of course, "The Holy One blessed be He assessed all the cities and did not find a city in which the Temple should be built other than Jerusalem." And finally, "The Holy One blessed be He assessed all the lands and did not find a land worthy to be given to Israel other than the Land of Israel." It’s a complete, encompassing selection.
So, what does it mean that God "assessed" the earth? Rav offers a rather… forceful interpretation, linking it to the verse in Habakkuk: “He saw and disbanded [vayater] nations.” Rav says vayater implies that God "permitted [hitir] the blood of the Canaanites and permitted [seizure of] their property." He backs this up with Deuteronomy, "You shall not allow a soul to remain alive" (Deuteronomy 20:16), and "You shall consume the spoils of your enemies" (Deuteronomy 20:14). Rabbi Huna offers a slightly different take, suggesting hitir means God "removed [hitir] their weapon belts," referencing Job 12:18, "He loosened the bonds of kings."
Ulla Bira’a, in the name of Rabbi Shimon ben Yoḥai, then offers a fascinating analogy. Imagine a farmer heading to the threshing floor with his dog and donkey. He overloads the dog, and as the poor creature collapses, the farmer shifts the load to the donkey. But still, the dog collapses! The farmer exclaims, "When you are loaded, you collapse [and even] when you are not loaded you collapse."
The point? The descendants of Noah, according to this teaching, were simply unable to bear the weight of even the seven mitzvot (commandments) they received. So, God, in a way, "unloaded" them onto Israel. Now, only Israel has the full obligation and privilege of fulfilling these mitzvot, a concept elaborated upon in Bava Kamma 38a.
Rabbi Tanhum bar Ḥanilai offers another analogy. A doctor visits two sick patients, one with a good prognosis, the other not so much. To the one who will live, the doctor gives specific instructions: "Eat this, don't eat that." But to the one who is dying, the doctor says, "Give him anything that he wants." Similarly, the idolaters, who are not destined for life in the World to Come, are given free rein: "Like green vegetation I have given you everything" (Genesis 9:3). But for Israel, who are destined for the World to Come, there are restrictions: "This is the animal that you may eat" (Deuteronomy 14:4).
So, what are we left with? A complex, sometimes uncomfortable, exploration of chosenness. It's not about inherent superiority, but about responsibility, about being entrusted with a higher calling, a greater burden. It's about the idea that with privilege comes obligation, and that sometimes, being chosen means having to say "no" when others can say "yes." It's a reminder that the story of our selection is not just a pat on the back, but a profound call to action. What does it mean for us, today, to be part of a people who said "yes" at Sinai?